


Miss Medda's House of Strays

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [15]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Backstory, Birthday, Canon Disabled Character, Cat/Human Hybrids, Deaf Character, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Felisian!Crutchie, Felisian!Jack, Felisian!Smalls, Felisian!Spot, Female Character of Color, Foster Family, Gen, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: It's Jack's birthday on Saturday and Davey's been invited along to spend the weekend with his family, the first time Davey will meet the rest of the patchwork foster family that's so important to his boyfriend. Which is how Davey finds himself walking down the quaint streets in the Long Island suburbs on a Friday evening with his heart pounding and his palms, admittedly, a bit clammy.





	1. Chapter 1

"Breathe, Dave."

Shooting a sideways glance at Jack, Davey smirks. "I'm fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders to resettle his backpack.

The felisian smirks and lifts their joined hands to press a quick kiss to the back of Davey's. "That why your palm's sweating?"

"Shut up," Davey protests, blushing in embarrassment. It's Jack's birthday on Saturday and Davey's been invited along to spend the weekend with his family, the first time Davey will meet the rest of the patchwork foster family that's so important to his boyfriend. Which is how Davey finds himself walking down the quaint streets in the Long Island suburbs on a Friday evening with his heart pounding and his palms, admittedly, a bit clammy. "Okay, so maybe I'm a little nervous," he concedes. "It's not like the whole 'meeting the parents' thing has ever ended well for me."

"Hey." Jack tugs him to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to face him properly. His ears pivot forward, giving Davey his full attention. "S'gonna be fine, promise," he says, hands settling on Davey's hips to pull him closer. "You got nothin' to be nervous about."

Davey chuckles. "Maybe, but that's not going to stop me from being nervous anyway." 

"Could distract ya," Jack offers with a mischievous grin, then leans in to kiss Davey, tail curling around Davey's back possessively. Although Davey isn't normally fond of such obvious public affection, this quiet side street is empty enough that he allows himself a moment of leaning into his boyfriend's chest.

"Alright, easy, tiger," Davey says, drawing back when Jack makes to deepen the kiss. "I really don't wanna show up to meet your family looking thoroughly debauched."

"Lookin' _what_?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow.

Davey snorts. "Like I'm five seconds away from dragging you into the first dark corner I can find to have my way with you," he elaborates with a smirk, to Jack's amusement. "That's not exactly the first impression I want to make."

"Hmm, _after_ dinner then?" Jack suggests, voice lowering to pick up the faintest rumble. Davey feels his breath catch, and he pushes on the felisian's chest to put a more respectable distance between them. Jack laughs and lets his hands drop. "A'right, spoilsport. But ya know what it does to me when you wear these things." He sneaks a hand beneath Davey's jacket to fidget with the button of his vest, lips quirking playfully.

"Behave," Davey chides, batting his hand away. Although he's been wearing mainly loose, layered clothing lately because it's easier to get on over his casted arm, his preferred button-ups and vests have made a reappearance for the occasion. "I just wanna look nice."

The felisian holds his hands out in surrender, before taking Davey's hand and starting to walk again. "Well, you look good, and you got nothin' to worry about," Jack reiterates. "Promise." He grins, shifting his backpack, and points across the street toward a small bookshop. "Ya see that place? Was my first job. Cleaned the shop for the old guy that owned the place after it closed ev'ry night."

Jack keeps up a running commentary of landmarks of growing up as they make the walk from the bus stop to his family home, telling stories about the streetlamp that Spot crashed into when learning to drive, or the tree that Smalls climbed up into one day and refused to come out of for hours. It keeps Davey distracted enough to forget his nerves until Jack finally nods to a red brick house.

"This's us," he says with a smile, turning them onto the little path to the porch. The house itself is tall, three stories with sloped black eaves, and the square porch holds a wooden bench swing that looks well-used and weather-worn. Jack pauses for a brief second to glance back at Davey, squeezing his hand reassuringly and waiting for a responding nod, before he unlocks the front door to let them in.

Davey's immediate impression is of warmth. The front hall is painted in soft neutrals, the thin winter sunlight sneaking through sheer curtains and glinting off the numerous framed photos hanging on the walls. A row of hooks inside the door holds an array of jackets, and pairs of shoes are lined up in a neat row beneath. There's a bright, delicious scent in the air, something decidedly homey like baking bread.

"Welcome to Miss Medda's House of Strays," Jack says with a grand gesture and beaming smile.

There's a bright laugh from beyond the open archway that leads to a sitting room. "You know she's gonna thump ya if she hears you call it that again," a high tenor calls sagely. Jack's eyes light up as he toes out of his shoes, prompting Davey to follow suit, before tugging him into the room.

An assortment of sofas and chairs fill the room to bursting, except for the corner beneath the window where an upright piano is tucked. There are more photo frames on the walls here, and mounted bookshelves holding a colorful collection of books with no seeming organization to them. A teenage boy is sitting up from his sprawl across one sofa, dark blonde hair tousled and a bushy, sand-colored tail hanging over the edge of the cushions. "Welcome home, Jacky," the boy greets with a blinding smile.

"Heya, Crutchie!" Jack says enthusiastically. He drops his backpack unceremoniously on the floor and vaults the coffee table to tug his little brother up into a bone-crushing hug that lifts him off the ground.

Crutchie yelps, clinging to Jack. "Put me down, ya idiot," he says through a laugh.

"Killjoy," Jack mumbles in mock indignation, but he carefully lowers Crutchie back to his feet. Or _foot_ , rather; the right leg of his jeans is rolled almost to the knee, emphasizing the absence of a calf. The younger boy shifts his weight, bottlebrush tail poised up behind him for balance. Jack tips his head, eyeing the teen thoughtfully. "You gettin' taller again?"

"Li'l bit," Crutchie agrees, one hand still on Jack's bicep to steady himself. His gaze darts passed his brother to where Davey's hovering uncertainly in the entryway, and his grin widens. "Hi, sorry my brother got no manners. You must be Davey."

"Charlie, right?" Davey responds, returning the boy's infectious smile. He's easy to recognize from the photos all over Jack's fridge back home, with the same round, rosy cheeks and wide, bright green eyes.

"Or Crutchie," he answers with a vague nod toward the forearm crutch propped against the wall beside the sofa. "Don't mind either way. Nice to finally meetcha. Heard _a lot_ about you." There's no missing the teasing smirk Crutchie tosses Jack's way at this. The older boy scowls and shoves Crutchie, sending him flopping back onto the sofa. "Hey, rude!"

"Teenagers," Jack grumbles, shaking his head, but his smile hasn't faded in the least.

"You do realize I'm still technically a teenager too," Davey points out.

Jack huffs. "Well, yeah, but an _adult_ teenager," he says. He glances back down to Crutchie. "Where's Ma?"

"Kitchen," Crutchie says. He bends down and retrieves a prosthetic leg from where it's tucked beneath the sofa. As he pulls up the right leg of his jeans, unashamedly revealing the stump of scarred flesh, he jerks his chin toward the wall. "Go on. I'll catch up once I'm bipedal again. Ma'll smack ya if she finds out you're here and didn't go say hi."

"Good point," Jack agrees. He comes back around the table to Davey's side, grinning. "C'mon, can dump our stuff here a sec. I wantcha to meet Ma." Jack moves his backpack from the floor to an armchair, and Davey follows his lead, both of them dropping off their coats as well. Tossing one more quick smile back at Crutchie, Jack drapes his arm around Davey's back and guides him into the hall again.

"So far so good," Jack says, just a hint mocking, as they walk down the hallway.

"Your brother's a lot nicer than you are," Davey shoots back with a smirk. From the living room, there's a burst of laughter.

Jack huffs in mock indignation. "Well, I sure as shit ain't gonna say nothin' nice about him now I know he's eavesdroppin'." The laughter redoubles. Jack, for all his pretend annoyance, can't hide the amusement in his bright eyes.

The hall ends in another archway that lets into a dining room of light hardwood, a well-worn but pretty embroidered tablecloth spread over a large table. The dining room opens into a kitchen painted in pale yellows and greens. A curvy black woman is working at the stove with her back to them, and a gangly young Latina felisian sits on the countertop.

When Jack and Davey step into the room, the girl's blue eyes go wide, face splitting into a grin. Her white ears perk, and her hands flutter in quick movements. She slides off the counter to sprint across the kitchen, throwing herself into Jack's expectant arms. Laughing, Jack spins her in a circle, squeezing her close. The girl gives a low, resonant purr and Davey's surprised to hear Jack echo it softly; it's the first time Davey's heard Jack purr while awake.

"Jack Kelly," the woman scolds, turned to face them with one hand planted on her hip, but there's a fond smile creasing the corners of her eyes. "You better getcha self over here and gimme a hug right now."

"Sorry, Ma," Jack says, settling his little sister on his hip. He crosses the kitchen in swift steps and uses his free arm to wrap his foster mother in a hug.

"Mm, there's my boy," she says warmly. "I've missed you, baby."

"Missed ya too," Jack replies, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek before he lets go. He glances over his shoulder, gesturing for Davey to join him. Davey comes over nervously, drying his palm on his jeans, just in case. "Ma, this's my boyfriend, Davey Jacobs," Jack introduces, beaming at him. "Davey, Miss Medda Larkin, best singer in New York and best damn mama in all'a the world."

Medda Larkin gives Jack an affectionate smile at the compliment before turning her focus to Davey. Despite the purely domestic setting, she carries an aura of splendor and presence that's a little intimidating. Then her face softens into a pleased smile, dark eyes sparkling. "Oh, it is so good to finally meet you, sugar," she says, and before Davey knows what's happening, he's enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.

"It's nice to meet you too, ma'am," Davey says when he recovers from his surprise, returning the hug and then stepping back.

"Oh, none of that ma'am nonsense," Medda says with a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Call me Medda."

The moment is interrupted by the girl on Jack's hip tapping his cheek to get his attention and then forming quick shapes with her hands. "Oh, right," Jack says, flashing the girl an apologetic smile and rubbing his fist in a quick circle against his chest. "Davey, this is Guadalupe, but we all just call her Smalls."

Smiling shyly, Davey makes sure the girl is looking at him and then taps his chest before slowly fingerspelling out D-A-V-E-Y in the air between them. Smalls' eyes light up excitedly, and she launches into another series of signs. Jack stares at Davey in surprise, his head slightly cocked. "Since when can ya sign?" he asks.

"I can't," Davey admits with a self-deprecating grin. "Just know how to spell. Sarah and I learned way back in junior high so we could talk in classes without getting in trouble. And it helps that all the letters in my name are easy to remember."

Jack snorts an appreciative laugh and lets his attention shift back to Smalls. "This is my boyfriend, Davey," Jack says aloud as he signs it, the spelled-out name much smoother on his fingers. Smalls wiggles until Jack sets her back on her feet, and then she charges over to throw her arms around Davey's waist, letting out another motorbike purr. Davey smiles as he hugs her back uncertainly.

Bouncing back, Smalls glances up to Jack and signs something. "Later," Medda interjects with an accompanying sign. "Dinner's almost ready. Set the table?" The youngest felisian scrunches her nose but obediently scurries over to grab a fistful of silverware from the drawer. Jack snorts and heads to a cupboard, lifting down a stack of plates.

Medda's gaze flicks to Davey, who is hovering, feeling a little useless and out of place. "That was very sweet of you, dear," she says, giving him a warm smile. "I think you just made her week. She gets so excited when anyone knows even a little ASL. Makes her feel less left out."

"I just feel bad I don't know more," Davey admits, fighting back a blush at her sincerity. "I've picked up a few random words but not enough to actually use." He glances at where Jack and Smalls are laying out the table, joined by Crutchie, who has come in from the other room now. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh no, don't worry about it," Medda says as she turns off the stove, giving the pot one last stir. "These kids are a well-oiled machine at this by now." She ducks to peer into the oven and then grabs an oven mitt, lifting out a tray with a large loaf of bread that smells like garlic. "I hope you like spaghetti," she adds, smiling.

Davey licks his lips and returns her smile. "My favorite," he admits.

"Just wait 'til ya try Ma's," Jack chimes in from the dining room. "Even Racer says it's the best and his folks are Italian, so that says somethin'."

Medda grins, pleased, and nods toward the table. "Go sit yourself down, sugar."

Davey fidgets and then heads into the other room. Smiling, Jack pulls out a chair for Davey, dipping in to sneak a quick kiss once he's sitting. "See, toldja she'd like ya," he whispers with a small smirk before he straightens up, one ear fluttering playfully. Davey gives him a dry look and jabs him in the side with an elbow.

Even though Davey feels intensely uncomfortable not helping, it really does only take them a minute more to get the dinner laid out on the table and take their seats. Dinner itself is a long and animated affair, Medda and Crutchie taking turns telling stories - with the accompanying signs so Smalls can follow long - that are seemingly intended to embarrass Jack. To his credit, Jack takes the whole thing well, no real conviction behind his whining and grumbling. Davey's stomach hurts from laughing by the time they've all emptied their plates.

"Thank you for dinner, ma'am, it really was delicious," Davey says when they all stand at the end of the meal.

"Medda," she reminds him with a soft smile. "And thank you, I'm glad you liked it. Charlie, your turn to help with dishes tonight."

"Aye aye, captain," Crutchie says with a playful salute, standing and retrieving his crutch from where it's propped against the empty chair beside him.

"Jack, you want to show Davey up to your room, get settled in?" Medda says, glancing to him. The felisian nods, dropping an arm around Davey's back. "And you, li'l miss," she finishes, catching Smalls' attention and signing, "bathtime. Up you go."

The youngest felisian rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue, but she slips out into the hall without argument. Jack grins as he steers Davey out after her. They pop into the living room to grab their abandoned backpacks, and then Jack leads the way up the flight of stairs. "Ma and Crutchie's rooms are down here," he explains when they hit the first landing. "And Spot's old room; Ma uses it as guest room now. Me and Smalls' are up top."

The third floor of the house is nothing more than a short hall, a door on either side with a bathroom visible behind a third door at the end. On the left-hand side, the door's decorated in a rainbow of flowers and 'Lupe' is painted across it in red and violet block letters. Jack leads the way to the other door, pushing it open with one hand.

"Ma's redecorated again," the felisian notes as he flicks on the light. The room is patterned in blues and whites, the duvet on the single bed matched to the pinstriped curtains. "Been turnin' my room into guest space too now I'm moved out."

Davey's attention is stuck on the wall above the bed where a large framed sketch is hanging, a sunrise over the Brooklyn Bridge depicted in smooth charcoal. "Did you do this one?" Davey asks, awed.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, when did Ma put that one up?" Jack responds, depositing his backpack on the floor of the little closet in the other wall.

"It's incredible," Davey breathes. There's such attention to detail, shadows hanging heavily from the towering pillars and suspension cables as the light blossoms over the city skyline.

Jack huffs a soft noise and flops onto the bed. "Was just a project for school," he says, shrugging.

"You're so ridiculous," Davey says, equal parts fond and exasperated. He will never understand how Jack can be so utterly oblivious to his talent. When Jack pats the mattress, Davey drops his backpack next to Jack's and climbs over to sit next to him.

Jack grins and adjusts his sprawled position so he can use Davey's leg as a pillow. "Like you're one to talk," he responds with a laugh. "Been getting yourself all worked up all day over nothin'. I toldja, Ma already said she loved ya 'fore she met ya 'cause you can make me behave for more than a minute."

Davey snorts appreciatively. "Not without putting in a lot of effort," he jokes, earning him a playful flick from Jack's tail. "I just didn't want to mess this up. I know how much your family means to you."

The felisian's smile softens, and he nuzzles his cheek against Davey's knee. "Yeah, well, you mean lots too," he says. Davey reaches down and combs his hand through Jack's hair affectionately. "Were you serious that other guys' folks didn't like you?"

"Very," Davey agrees, grimacing ruefully.

"How?" Jack asks with a frown. "You're exactly the sorta guy folks should _want_ their kid datin'. Ya know, smart and not getting into trouble and all - respectable."

"Thanks," Davey laughs. "I dunno, the first one, I'm pretty sure it wasn't really so much _me_ as a person they didn't like. More - well, Darcy was the first guy I considered a boyfriend. I mean, we were only fourteen, so it was just that young and stupid love sorta thing, but it still felt like a big deal at the time. He invited me over to meet his family, only I didn't know he hadn't come out to his parents yet."

Ears folding back, Jack's eyes widen. "Uh oh, think I can guess where this goes."

"Yeah, pretty much," Davey says, nodding. "Darcy proceeded to come out over dinner by announcing to his very conservative parents that he was in love with me."

"Fucking hell," Jack hisses. "I've had some shitty ideas before and even I know that's a _very_ shit idea."

Davey smirks. "Yeah, if you ever want to traumatize a kid, having some very angry parents scream at him for turning their son down the path of sin does a pretty good job of it." The felisian winces, his brow furrowed sympathetically, and he takes Davey's hand. "In comparison, Bill's dad was nice. He just told me straight out that a poor Jewish kid wasn't good enough for the future he'd planned for his son. Bill obviously wasn't inclined to disagree because we broke up not too long after."

"What kinda shit guys were you datin'?" Jack asks, nose scrunching in disgust. "Folks in Buffalo is messed up."

Laughing appreciatively, Davey shrugs. "Not all of us can be suave Casanovas," he counters, tweaking the tuft of fur on one of Jack's ears. "Awkward nerds in a largely upper-class school don't exactly have people lined up around the block."

Jack hums. "Well, that part I'm okay with. If all the guys were fightin' for ya, I might not've got my chance," he says, grinning. "Now all I gotta worry 'bout is drunk Romeo."

Davey falls into a fit of giggles that makes Jack's grin widen, tail thumping against the bedspread once in satisfaction. "I think you're safe there," Davey says when his laughter finally fades down. "Romeo's cute and all, but I've gotten a little attached to you for some reason."

"Once you go cat, you never go back," Jack says with a knowing nod, making Davey laugh and roll his eyes. "Love ya too, Dave." Davey smiles fondly as he ducks down to kiss Jack. "Mm, 'kay, dunno 'bout you but I'm ready for bed. Smalls is a mornin' person, and she's pro'lly gonna end up wakin' everyone up way too damn early."

"That's fine, I think your mom's cooking is putting me into a food coma," Davey admits with a lazy grin. They've had a long day anyway, hopping the bus from Manhattan to Islip as soon as their classes finished for the day. So they get ready for bed, digging pajamas - Jack warned Davey ahead of time that Smalls has a tendency to let herself into rooms without warning - and toothbrushes out of their backpacks.

Smalls is at the top of the stairs, dressed in a set of Wonder Woman pajamas with her long black hair braided back, as they are coming back from the bathroom. She grins and darts over to hug Jack, then immediately does the same to Davey. Bounding back a step, her white tail flicks energetically as she signs something Davey doesn't recognize.

"She's saying good night," Jack translates and then repeats the signs back to her.

"How do I do that one?" Davey asks.

Jack's ears perk, surprised, before he obligingly does the signs again slower. Clumsy and uncertain, Davey copies the signs as best as he can with one hand still in a cast. It's worth it for the way Smalls' bright blue eyes light up, and she promptly hugs Davey again, along with a quick burst of that low, stuttering purr. After another flurry of signs, she grins at them both and then heads for her bedroom door.

The moment they're closed up in Jack's old bedroom, the felisian tugs Davey into an embrace, arms and tail wrapped around his back, nose tucked into the juncture of Davey's neck and shoulder. "Have I mentioned before that you're kinda amazing?" Jack says, and Davey can feel the smile against his skin.

"I don't know if those were the exact words you used, but yeah, it's been discussed," Davey replies, smirking.

Jack chuckles, pulling back enough to bump his nose against Davey's. "Well, can't hurt nothin' to say it again, huh?" he says. "'Cause you're amazing."

Davey melts like butter the same way he does every time Jack fixes him with that look, topaz eyes warm and intent and sincere. "Love you too," he says and then leans forward to kiss Jack. The felisian hums a noise that's tinged in a rumble, and he drags Davey toward the bed. They curl up together, safely ensconced under the duvet, Jack tucked into his favorite place around Davey's side.

As they drift off, Jack kneading one hand on Davey's sternum in his sleep, Davey lets out a relieved breath. For all his awkwardness and nerves, day one of meeting the family definitely could've gone worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was not kidding that Smalls is an early riser. It's barely past sunrise when Davey's woken by the mattress bobbing, and he glances down to see that Smalls has jumped up onto the bed, bouncing on her knees and patting Jack's leg to get his attention. Groaning and stretching, Jack pushes up onto his elbows. Smalls beams and hastily signs something, her tail jittering with excitement.

Jack manages a sleepy smile, and he sits up to free his hands. "Thanks, Smalls," he says aloud as he signs back. "Now go away so I can get dressed."

Instead, Smalls lunges up the bed to hug him, nuzzling against his chest and purring. Jack laughs, squeezing her back and echoing the purr in that quiet way of his, the one that doesn't make much noise but is still enough to resonate in his ribcage. When she pulls back, he makes a shooing motion and points to the door. Smalls rolls her eyes, but she obligingly bounds off the bed and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

"She was wishing me happy birthday," Jack supplies, flopping back down into his sprawl on Davey's chest. He yawns, the tip of his tongue curling up adorably between his elongated canines.

Davey chuckles, his eyes drifting shut as he cards a hand lazily through Jack's hair. "Happy birthday, Jacky. And hey, congrats, you're finally legal to drink."

"Why do ya think Ma wanted me _here_ for my birthday?" Jack replies with a snort. "Didn't want a repeat of Spot's twenty-first. Him and Blink ended up sleepin' it off in the drunk tank. Ma wasn't impressed." Davey laughs at the idea of Spot, so calm and stoic, getting wild enough for the cops to step in. "So we're definitely not gonna say a word 'bout that last party at Boots', 'kay?"

The memory makes Davey smirk. "Yeah, your mom probably doesn't need to hear that story," he agrees. He rubs circles into the base of Jack's ear and feels that low rumble pick up in Jack's chest again. It's one of those things Jack never openly admits to doing, still a bit too hung-up on the self-doubt about his felisianism - except, apparently, where his little sister is involved. "You're really cute with Smalls," Davey says, smiling softly. "You guys seem really close."

"She's somethin', that's for sure," Jack says with a grin. "Was only three when Ma brought her home, she was just this wiggly li'l furball that wanted to cuddle anyone that'd hold still long enough."

Davey chuckles, glancing down to where Jack is splayed halfway across him. "That sounds familiar."

"Oh shaddup, you love it," Jack counters. His tail makes a swishing noise as it sweeps against the underside of the blanket. "Anyway, I was big in my art back then, and she liked I'd let her sit in my lap when I was workin'. And it's somethin' she can appreciate without hearin', ya know? Sorta stuck herself to me like Velcro after that, and I ain't been able to shake her since."

"That's sweet," Davey says. He bites his lip, trying to figure out how to bring it up. "She was born deaf, right?"

Jack hums an agreement. "Yeah, got that blue-eyes-white-ears thing," he says. It's a genetic mutation that Davey's heard of; just like with felines, many white-furred and blue-eyed felisians are at least hard of hearing, if not entirely deaf.

"I'm kind of surprised she can purr then," Davey admits. "I'd think she wouldn't know how."

The way Jack looks up, resting his chin on Davey's chest to meet his gaze, tells Davey his attempt at subtlety didn't work. Jack smirks, raising an eyebrow. "I think we've been togetha long 'nough you don't gotta tiptoe, babe," he says wryly.

"I didn't want to pry. I know you don't like talking about those kinds of things," Davey says, smiling apologetically. The felisian simply stares back expectantly. "I was just surprised. You normally make so much effort to avoid doing things like that, so it was weird to hear."

"It's just with her," Jack confesses, ears half-pulled back the way they do when he's self-conscious. "I never used'ta. Thing is - she can _feel_ it. Can't hear it, obviously, but she feels it vibrate, ya know?" Davey's lips part in comprehension. "Yeah. Was Crutchie figured out how much she likes it; guess it's some sorta cat instinct thing, somethin' the moms do to make their babies feel better. His mom did it when he was a baby too. So when Smalls was li'l and she used to get scared or have nightmares, Crutchie would hold her and purr, and it calmed her down."

Davey nods in understanding, processing that. He remembers nights when Les was first born where Mayer would fall asleep in the rocking chair with Les curled up on his chest, both of them purring softly. Davey always thought it was cute, but he never considered that there's something deeper behind it. The idea sends his curiosity spiraling, and he makes a note to look into it more later.

"I wouldn't do it, at first," Jack continues, quieter. "Hated it. Was still - I dunno, you know how I get 'bout that stuff sometimes, and I was way worse back then. But then one night, Crutchie's stayin' at a friend's house and she comes to me, crying, and I try rockin' her and huggin' her, and she just won't stop. Then finally, I purred, and she went straight to sleep. Took a long time to feel okay doin' it, still makes me feel weird sometimes, but I ain't great at sayin' no to her either."

"Softie," Davey murmurs in amusement. Jack huffs in mock indignation, but he's smiling. "So is it just an instinctive thing and that's how she knows?"

"Nah, but she picked it up fast," the felisian says. "Copied what she felt us do until she figured it out. S'why it sounds funny sometimes, kinda broken up or going loud and quiet, 'cause she can't hear how it sounds so she's just doin' what she feels."

"Wow, that's kind of incredible," Davey says, awed. "Being able to learn something like that."

Jack chuckles. "She's a smart li'l thing, fo'sure, and feisty." He groans, arching his back as he stretches. "And she's gonna come back and raise hell if we ain't outta bed soon."

Both of them grumbling blearily, they get up and dress. Davey fusses with his hair, desperately trying to make it lie flat; he needs a haircut, it's gotten long enough that it's starting to curl at the ends, and no amount of effort can make it cooperate once that happens. The felisian laughs and drags him in for a kiss that makes Davey forget about bedhead, and while he's distracted, Jack steers him out into the hall.

As they head for the stairs, Jack sniffs and grins. "Mmm, pancakes," he says excitedly. Davey can't smell anything yet, but he knows better than to doubt Jack's sense of smell by now, especially when it comes to food. They reach the ground floor and go straight for the kitchen. Medda is busy at the stove again, while Crutchie and Smalls are sitting at the table, the latter kicking her legs with far more energy than anyone should possess so early.

"Mornin'," Jack greets while he heads to the table and tugs at Smalls' braid playfully.

"Mornin', sugar," Medda replies with a broad grin. She finishes with what she's doing at the stove and then rounds on Jack, pulling him into a crushing embrace. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Ma," Jack says fondly, dropping a kiss on her cheek. He glances toward the stack of cooked pancakes waiting by the stove and shakes his head. "Ya didn't have to do all this."

Medda scoffs. "Like I'm not going to spoil my babies on their birthdays," she counters, rolling her eyes. "I don't care how old you are, you're still my boy, and that means I'm gonna feed you up good. So sit your butt down and pay attention to that sweet boyfriend of yours while I finish this up."

Davey feels the blush immediately crawling up the back of his neck, and Jack laughs at the sight. "C'mon, there's no arguin' with her," Jack says, setting a hand on the small of Davey's back to guide him to the table.

"You'd think you'd've figured that out by now," Crutchie teases, grinning. "Happy birthday, old man."

Jack snorts, slipping into the chair next to Davey. "You're not that far behind, smart mouth," he retorts, falling into signing along like it's second nature. "You wait, it'll catch up to ya soon. You got one more year of high school, and then it all goes by super fast."

"Hey you, don't you go reminding me of that," Medda calls over her shoulder. "I'm still recovering from you and Sean moving out, don't go taking another one of my kids already."

"Sorry, Ma," both boys chorus together, exchanging smirks. Then Crutchie adds, "Least you still got a long time left with Lupe."

"How old are you?" Davey asks, directing the question at Smalls, and Jack hastily translates for him.

Smalls holds up her index finger and bends in twice, like a 'come here' gesture, at the same time that Jack says, "Eleven." Davey blinks, surprised; going by her height, he'd guessed that she's eight, nine at the most. Jack must be able to read the question in Davey's eyes because he chuckles. "Why d'ya think we call her Smalls?" he says, shrugging.

Across the table, Smalls sticks out her tongue and then signs something that makes Crutchie laugh so hard he doubles over onto the table. "'Puff-tail,' really?" Jack says incredulously. " _That's_ the best you could come up with? And on my birthday of all days. I'm offended by the lack of effort." As Jack puts a hand on his heart theatrically, pretending to be wounded, Smalls rolls her eyes.

"Breakfast is served, Puff-tail," Medda announces with a cheeky grin, leaning in to set an enormous platter of pancakes in the center of the table. Davey can't stop his amused snort at this, while Crutchie dissolves into giggles again.

Jack shoots a sideways look at Davey, smirking. "Don't laugh too hard, Puff-hair."

"Shut up," Davey yelps, anxiously attempting to smooth down his hair again.

Medda cuffs Jack around the back of the head on her way back to the kitchen. "You be nice," she scolds, then to Davey, "You look fine, sweetie, don't mind him."

"Sorry," Jack says, taking Davey's hand to stop him fixing his hair and pressing a kiss to his wrist. "Your hair's fine, babe."

"You're lucky it's your birthday," Davey says teasingly. "Now eat your pancakes."

The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone dishes up their breakfast, and Medda joins them at the table. "So Davey," Medda starts after a minute, "you're studying journalism, right?"

Davey hastily swallows his mouthful and nods. "Yeah, and then I've got to declare an emphasis by the end of term, but I haven't quite decided which one I want to do," he says. "I'm sort of bouncing between political science or international relations right now."

"You have to pick what you wanna report about?" Crutchie asks, brow furrowed.

"Sort of. NYU's journalism program is actually a required double-major," Davey explains. "So you have to major in journalism and then pick a second art or science degree too."

Medda's eyebrows raise. "That sounds intense."

Davey chuckles. "Yeah, kind of," he agrees. "But that's sort of why I wanted to do it too because it's a really great program, so you've got a much better chance of getting a job. It's especially great for print journalism because it gets you connections in your specialty."

"And you're specializin' in politics?" Crutchie says.

Smalls signs a word that makes Medda click her tongue disapprovingly. "Boring," Jack translates with a smirk.

Grinning, Davey shrugs. "Sometimes. I like keeping up on political stuff though," he says. "My sister's known she wanted to be a lawyer since we were about ten, so I grew up surrounded by all those things, and I guess it rubbed off at some point."

"They're both scary smart," Jack chips in, nodding. "Should hear when the two of 'em get going. Was kinda embarrassin' listening to 'em debating felisian law 'cause they both knew way more than I'd ever even heard of."

Davey blushes and ducks his head when Jack shoots an almost proud smile at him. "Our step-dad and brother are felisian," Davey says by way of explanation. "So we got interested in it after our little brother was born. That's the only reason we know about it. We're both leaning towards working in social progress fields like equal rights, and after we realized all the ways our society doesn't accommodate felisians, we got kind of invested."

Medda smiles affectionately. "No wonders you and Jack get along so well," she says. "He ever told you about the Great Felisian Sit-In of 2014?"

"'15," Crutchie corrects idly, and she nods to acknowledge it.

"Ma, it wasn't that big a thing," Jack counters, rolling his eyes. "Was only a day 'fore the school board shut us down."

"Wait, shut down what?" Davey asks curiously. "I heard about the bullying thing with the special ed kid," Jack shoots a surprised look at him, "but I haven't heard this one."

"Oh, yes, there was that one too," Medda agrees. "No, his junior year, was it? Yeah. He staged a protest after the school replaced the desks and chairs in half the classrooms with ones that didn't accommodate tails. Got about two-thirds of the school to do a sit-in on the front lawn. Even made the local news."

Jack scoffs quietly. "Like I said, she makes it sound crazier 'an it was," he says. "We just sat on the sidewalk and the principal called the school board. They agreed to exchange the chairs out the same day. Wasn't a big deal."

Shaking his head, Davey looks at Jack. "A schoolwide protest isn't a big deal?" he asks.

"Only as big a deal as an exposé on school lunches, Mr. Journalist," Jack responds with a smirk. Davey snaps his jaw shut because he has no good argument to that one.

Crutchie giggles. "Can already see it, you two's gonna cause so much trouble together," he jokes. "Get ready, Ma. Gonna start gettin' calls from the college that they've shut the place down about somethin'."

Jack laughs. "Yeah, except when you're an adult, they tend to just arrest you for that kinda stuff," he points out. "And it ain't gonna be easy gettin' a job as a social worker with a rap sheet."

"Thought you already had one?" Crutchie says, raising an eyebrow.

"That don't count," Jack says, ears drawing back. Davey's interest is peaked, but he doesn't ask, recognizing the tension in Jack's posture. Maybe later, though, in a less tense situation.

Medda clears her throat pointedly. "How's your arm, Davey?" she asks in a deliberate change of subject. "Jack said it was a bad break."

"It's getting better," Davey says, flexing his fingers idly. "The part where it came through the skin is healed, so it's just the bones now. The doctor says I'm probably going to be in a cast through at least April, though."

Smalls' nose scrunches up, and she signs something, glancing to Jack for a translation. "She said 'the bone came out?'"

"Both did," Davey admits. "It was apparently pretty bad, but I don't actually remember any of it." As he says this, Davey reaches for Jack beneath the table, squeezing his knee in a comforting gesture. While Davey might not remember much about the accident, Jack was listening from the other end of a video call the whole time, and Davey knows it haunts him. There's been a night or two of waking from nightmares, or the full-bodied flinch when they heard a car's brakes squeal while they were walking to campus the other day.

The felisian smiles, a slight nod to let Davey know he's okay. "The x-ray was nasty," Jack supplies. "Although now you got metal in your bones, which is kinda cool. You're like a Terminator."

"Welcome to the club, bro," Crutchie says with a grin, raising a fist above his head. "Cyborgs for the win."

Davey laughs. "I don't think a pair of pins is really enough to qualify me as a cyborg," he says. "But I appreciate the invite. Race suggested I look into piracy though, with the scar." He gestures vaguely to the row of stitches that span the side of his face.

"Does make ya look kinda badass," Jack says, nodding thoughtfully. "Might not end up full-on piratey though, it's healin' up good."

"So I've downgraded from 'horror movie monster' to ' vaguely pirate,'" Davey says with a smirk. "I'd call that progress."

"Was it really that bad?" Crutchie asks curiously.

"Kinda, yeah," Davey answers, while Jack nods emphatically at his side. "It's probably like half the size it was at first. I don't advise headbutting a windshield. It will definitely win."

Shaking her head, Medda clicks her tongue sadly. "That's terrible. I'm glad that you're okay. Poor Jack was so scared when he called me." Jack makes a noise of protest. "Oh shush, you, it's perfectly fine to be scared in a situation like that. Did they catch the driver?"

"Oh, yeah, it wasn't a hit-and-run or anything," says Davey. "Just a freak accident, really. The car hit a patch of ice coming around the corner. The driver stayed with us until the ambulance came. My little brother was with me, he said the guy was nice and that he was sorry."

"Your brother was there?" Medda asks, brow furrowed. "Was he okay?"

Davey nods. "Yeah, he was fine. He was out of the way when it happened, so he scraped his hands when he fell, but that was it. More traumatized than anything."

"I bet," Medda says sympathetically. "How old is he?"

"He just turned ten," Davey says. "He's a tough kid, he bounced back pretty fast. I think in the end he was mostly just disappointed we never made it to see Spiderman."

At this, Smalls' eyes brighten eagerly. "Uh oh," Crutchie says, chuckling. "Ya get Smalls on superheroes and she won't stop for _hours_."

Sure enough, the girl quickly launches into a stream of nearly endless signing, while the others take turns translating so that they can still eat their breakfast as she goes on excitedly about all of her favorite superheroes. She knows a surprising amount about comic books and the passion is visible in her face while she's telling Davey, through the others, about her favorites.

When they finish eating and start clearing away their dishes, Smalls darts over to tug Jack's hand and signs something, her eyes imploring. Jack grins and nods, and Smalls beams before she tears off out of the room. "She's going to get her coloring stuff," Jack explains to Davey. "We usually wind up drawing together when I'm home. Ya don't mind, right?"

"Course not," Davey says. He grins and bumps his hip against Jack's. "It's _your_ birthday, after all. Besides, you know I like watching you work." Jack chuckles and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ' _sweet talk._ '

"And as much as I hate to leave on your birthday," Medda says, "I've got a rehearsal to go run. But I'll be home in just a couple hours, promise."

"S'fine, Ma," Jack says, kissing her cheek as he passes. "Spring musical don't wait for no one, right? Which one you doin' this time?"

" _Scarlet Pimpernel_ ," she responds.

Jack grins. "Oh, my favorite. I'mma sneak up on a weekend to see it. What 'bout you, Dave? Wanna come with?"

"I've actually never seen that one," Davey admits.

The felisian's jaw drops, his expression a blend of shock and horror. "Fo'real? How've you not seen _Pimpernel_?"

Davey laughs. "Not all of us have theatre directors as parents," he points out. "The only plays I've ever seen were the ones the high school did."

"Absolute crime," Jack says, shaking his head. "Okay, ya don't get a choice then, youse comin' with. It's the best."

"And we're reusing the set pieces you made last time," Medda adds.

Davey glances at Jack, raising an eyebrow. "You've got 'set designer' on your resume too?"

Jack scoffs and rolls his eyes. "It was some canvas backdrops, don't make it sound fancier 'an it is." Medda shakes her head with an expression Davey recognizes; it's the same fond exasperation he gets every time he hears Jack downplay his art. "Don't worry 'bout me, Ma, we'll be fine while you're workin'. And I'm sure the li'l one can keep me occupied while you're gone."

Medda smirks. "Crayons and pencils only," she says firmly. "No paints. You two completely destroyed my rug last time."

"It was an accident," Jack protests.

"No paint," Medda repeats, patting his arm, and then she shoos them as she turns to the kitchen sink. Jack huffs in a slightly petulant way, but he settles an arm around Davey's back, guiding him to the living room.

Crutchie is tucked into a corner of the sofa with one leg stretched out across the cushions in front of him and his bushy tail draped over the side. They don't even have time to sit down before Smalls barrels into the room, her arms full of a stack of paper and a large tote of colored pencils. She deposits it all on the floor beside the coffee table and flops onto the carpet. Her sleek white tail sways above her as she gazes up at Jack expectantly.

"That's my cue," Jack says, grinning, and he sneaks one more quick kiss from Davey before he sinks down onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medda turned her kids into accidental theatre nerds and I will die by this headcanon. Also, Scarlet Pimpernel is seriously the best. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it 10000%.


	3. Chapter 3

Davey discovers very quickly that Crutchie, for all his friendly smiles and sunny demeanor, has a little bit of a mischievous streak. While Jack is preoccupied being shown an endless stream of Smalls' art projects, Crutchie takes great pleasure in telling the stories behind all of the different family photos on the walls, particularly the ones that involve embarrassing Jack.

"C'mon, Crutch," Jack whines, while Davey is reduced to giggles over a photo of Jack from high school in which he's sporting a very questionable haircut choice. "Lemme keep a li'l dignity, wouldja?"

"Can't miss what you never had," Crutchie replies with a grin. Scowling, Jack throws a stub of a pencil at him. "Gimme a break. You know how long I've been waitin' for you to actually bring someone home so I can do this?"

Jack snorts. "Karma's a bitch, bud," he says warningly. "'Cause I'm gonna remember this when you start datin'."

With a shy smile, Crutchie bites his lip and his cheeks pink. "Maybe I already am."

"Seriously?" Jack asks, ears snapping forward. "Why didn't ya say?"

"'Cause I knew you'd tease the shit outta me," Crutchie answers with a laugh. He shrugs. "It's not serious or nothin'. Just this girl in my history class, her name's Jojo."

"Jojo?" Davey asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is the nickname thing _all_ of Long Island then?"

Crutchie grins. "She's Portuguese, and her real name is hella long," he explains. "Anyway, we been hangin' out since we did this group project together last term. I, uh, I been thinkin' 'bout asking her to prom."

Jack beams. "Look at you, charmer," he teases. Crutchie rolls his eyes and chucks the pencil back at him. "Nah, that's cool, good for you. Kissed her yet?" His eyebrows bounce lecherously.

"Kinda thought I'd wait 'til we least gone on a date first," Crutchie says dryly. He glances over at Davey. "Please tell me he didn't try and kiss ya soon's he metcha."

Davey chuckles. "No, he was a perfect gentleman," he says, shooting a playful grin at Jack. "Didn't kiss me 'til after he'd walked me home from a date."

"Um, no, pretty sure I remember was _you_ kissed me first," says Jack, smirking.

"Because you were dancing around it and stammering like a dork," Davey responds. He looks over at Crutchie conspiratorially. "You should've heard him, he could barely string a sentence together. It was adorable."

Crutchie practically falls over laughing while Jack flushes red. Smalls grins deviously and bumps her shoulder against Jack's playfully, her tail flicking in long sways that tangle it with her older brother's. She signs something that makes the blush on Jack's face darken and Crutchie laughs so hard he's wheezing.

"I missed that," Davey says, glancing at the girl curiously. "What'd she say?"

"No," Jack says. "I ain't answerin' that. And you both," he points between his siblings, "are evil, and I hate ya." Smalls pouts and nuzzles his arm, purring quietly and gives an impressive display of sad-puppy face.

Crutchie is clearly unconcerned by Jack's threats because he just smiles. "She asked if he's gonna run away and marry you like Spot and Race did."

This time it's Davey's turn to blush, the heat crawling up the back of his neck and into his ears. "Oh."

"See, now ya know why I wasn't sayin'," Jack says pointedly. "And again, youse both evil."

Crutchie laughs. "Probably best you don't anyway," he advises in mock solemnity. "Think it'd ach'lly kill Ma if another kid elopes."

"Wait, _another_?" asks Davey, shocked. "You mean Spot and Race seriously eloped?"

"Oh, I never toldja that?" Jack asks with a laugh. "Uh, yeah. Guess it was sorta an accident. Turns out not _everythin'_ that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

"No way, they got drunk-hitched?" Davey says gleefully. He tries to imagine a scowling Spot exchanging drunken vows with Race in front of an Elvis impersonator, and the mental image makes him laugh so hard his stomach hurts.

Crutchie grins. "Took a weekend trip to celebrate Race gettin' his Bachelors' and came back married. Ma's still heartbroke. First of her kids to get married, and she didn't even get to be there."

"Wait, so if they didn't mean to get married, why not just get it annulled or something?" Davey asks.

Jack shrugs. "Their excuse was too much paperwork," he supplies. "But we all know it's bull. They might not've meant to get married, but we all knew they were gonna eventually. Figure they don't wanna go through the effort of getting un-married just to turn around and get married again in a couple years."

"It's almost kinda romantic, in a weird way," Crutchie says in amusement. "Just don't say so in front of Ma unless you wanna hear an epic guilt trip."

"S'why Race didn't come with us yesterday," Jack adds, grinning. "Both of 'em are still too scared to face Ma alone, so they only ever come out together, and since Spot had work last night..." He trails off with a vague hand gesture and smirk.

Davey leans back into the sofa cushion with a thoughtful noise. "I always kind of wondered why there aren't any wedding photos in your apartment," he admits. "I just assumed it's 'cause Spot's camera-shy."

Crutchie snorts. "That too."

Smalls signs, looking sideways at Jack curiously. "Yeah, they're comin' later," he answers, pitching his weight onto one elbow enough to free his hands for signing. The girl beams excitedly and goes back to her drawings, her tail swaying languidly as she narrows her eyes at the page in concentration. "You think she turns _me_ to a softie," Jack says, glancing up at Davey, "wait 'til ya see Spot."

"Like I hadn't already guessed he's secretly a marshmallow," Davey replies, laughing. "I mean, he works in a kids' hospital. And he's always doing volunteer stuff there, like he skipped the Halloween party to help run that trick-or-treat thing for the kids there, remember?"

"Not to mention he's kinda adopted you as one'a his li'l bear cubs," Jack teases. He tosses a grin Crutchie's way. "Spot's been full mama-bear mode since Davey got hurt."

Crutchie winces sympathetically. "Yeah, I know how that is. 'Member when I got pneumonia?"

"I mean, it's nice he cares," Davey offers diplomatically. "I appreciate it. He just gets a little-"

"Overbearing?" Crutchie supplies. "No kiddin'. Try being stuck in bed with nowhere to run. Least you can leave and get away from him for a bit." He shrugs. "That's just how Spot's always been though. Might'a been an only kid before, but he sure took to the big brother thing like a natural. Think he'll be a good dad if him and Race ever decide to do that."

Jack hums when Smalls taps his arm for attention, and she holds her drawing toward him. The sight of it makes Jack grin, and he hastily signs to her, jerking his head toward the sofa. Smalls shoots a nervous glance at Davey and then bounds to her feet. To Davey's surprise, she walks over and holds the drawing out to him.

"What's this?" Davey asks, taking the picture and turning it around to see it right-side-up. It's a drawing of some sort of superhero, a man in a suit of sleek black and purple body armor. There's a jagged scar up across one eye and a large gauntlet of some kind on one arm. It's actually a really good drawing for a kid her age, the lines of colored pencil even and precise over the detailing. "Wow, this is great," he says, glancing up to smile at her.

"Congrats, you been supered," Jack says with a grin.

Davey's eyes widen, and he looks down at the drawing again. Now that he knows what to look for, he can see the blue eyes and dark hair and long, lean figure that could be him, although the scar's moved from his cheek to his eye. "This's me?"

"It's kinda her thing," Jack explains. Smalls glances over her shoulder to get his attention and then starts signing energetically. Jack's smiling as he translates, "Says you got a super-strong cyborg arm. And it apparently has guns in it too, which I personally think makes you a li'l OP."

Glancing from the drawing to Smalls' eager face, Davey is a little overwhelmed by the gesture. "This is really great, thank you," he says. Behind Smalls' back, Jack taps his flat hand to his chin and lowers it. Davey gratefully repeats the sign, and Smalls' eyes gleam. She grins, her tail swishing in satisfaction as she bounces over to drop down beside Jack again. "She's really good."

"Learned from the best," Jack says, winking.

Crutchie snorts. "She likes doin' that," he says, nodding to the picture. "She's always been into comic books and stuff, so she likes to turn folks into superheroes. She's even started doin' whole stories, and I got my own series," he adds proudly. "Looks like you've officially joined Team Cyborg. We should do a team-up." He groans, stretching. "Ow, speaking of cyborgs, sorry if this is totally creepy, but I'm dyin'."

Sitting up, Crutchie reaches down and starts rolling the leg of his jeans, baring the prosthetic beneath it. Davey's never seen a prosthetic leg in real life, and he's a little fascinated by the simplicity of it, the sleek metal bar of the calf ending in the rounded plastic shape of a foot. There are standard rotator joints in place of an ankle and knee, and the top is a hollow cup that his thigh slips into.

"Sorry, but it's gonna snow again soon, and that makes this thing hurt," Crutchie says, sliding the prosthetic off with a wince. The stump of leg beneath is warped with scars, especially at the bottom where the skin appears to have been folded in on itself into a seam. Crutchie leans over to tuck the leg beneath the sofa and then rolls the jeans down a little to cover his leg. He glances across at Davey and smiles awkwardly. "I know it weirds people out."

"No, it's fine," Davey says hastily, and he drops his gaze when he realizes he was staring. "Sorry, I've just never seen one before. Well, I mean, I've got a cousin who lost an arm in Iraq."

Crutchie grins. "He got one of those cool hooks?"

"My nieces and nephews all call him Captain Hook," Davey responds with a chuckle. "Even though he always reminds them he's actually a sergeant."

Jack laughs appreciatively. "Sergeant Hook don't got a bad ring to it," he offers.

"Hey Smalls, that'd make a cool superhero name, ya think?" says Crutchie, smirking. He rubs absently at his thigh through his jeans. "I'll get a cooler prosthetic eventually. This one's sorta the basic kind. Don't wanna waste Ma's money buying fancier ones when I gotta keep upgrading every year."

"Well if ya'd stop growing," Jack intones sarcastically.

Crutchie snorts. "You're just jealous 'cause I'm gonna be taller than you," he says. "Docs say I'm pro'lly done growing soon though, so next one I get, I wanna get one that's good for runnin'. You know, those cool C-shaped ones? That'd be fun. I've never been able to go runnin'." Perking up, Smalls signs, and Crutchie smiles. "Yeah, we'll go runnin' together," he agrees, and Davey's a little startled to realize he's mostly stopped noticing that they all sign while they talk.

"And hey, if you finally stop growing outta your legs, you can ditch the crutch too," Jack adds.

"It's mostly for balance," Crutchie explains for Davey's benefit. "'Cause one of my legs is usually a li'l longer than the other. And helps take some of the weight when I'm gettin' used to a new leg 'cause they gotta be broke in a bit."

"That's crazy, I never really thought about all of that," Davey admits. "It must be hard dealing with that."

Crutchie shrugs dismissively. "Growing pains," he says. "Not like everyone don't get those."

"If you don't mind me asking," Davey starts uncertainly, "how long has it been?"

"Since I lost the leg?" Crutchie clarifies. "I was five. Well, almost six. So, I mean, it's not like I even really remember a time without this thing. It's just part of me now." He chuckles. "Although, if I ditch the crutch, might have to get a new nickname. Crutchie won't make sense anymore."

Jack grins. "That'll be part of the fun."

"Says the most hipster cowboy of all time," Davey throws in teasingly. Jack pulls back his ears and sticks out his tongue indignantly. Crutchie doubles over, laughing again.

Smalls waves a hand to get Davey's attention and then stands, gesturing him over. She signs and glances to Jack expectantly. "She wants to show you the rest of her comics," Jack supplies with an affectionate smile. When Davey nods, Smalls breaks into an enormous grin, and she tears out of the room. 

* * *

Spot and Race arrive in the early afternoon, their entrance announced by Race shouting, "What's up, my kitty crew!" into the house. A moment later, he peeks into the living room and grimaces. "Miss Medda ain't home yet, right? A'ways forget she hates when I say that."

"Idiot," Spot mutters fondly as he slips passed his husband. Smalls glances up from the pile of hand-drawn comics she's been sharing with Davey, following everyone else's gaze, and then an enormous grin splits her face. Bolting up, she practically tackles Spot with a hug, her stuttering purr swelling loudly. A rare smile crosses Spot's lips, and he hooks hands under Smalls' arms, swinging her up to hang onto his back. His purr harmonizes with hers, and he grins as she settles her head on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

"See, toldja so," Jack mutters to Davey, smirking.

Spot's yellow eyes narrow at Jack. "Watch it, peanut gallery, I know where ya sleep." Shaking his head, he perches on a chair, letting Smalls clamber off to sit on the arm of it. "Hey, Crutchie, how ya doin'?"

Crutchie and Smalls take turns sharing everything that's going on in their lives, while Spot replies with stories from the hospital and Race talks about his Masters' classes. There's an easy, charming domesticity to it that makes Davey smile. It's sweet, these people who are all so radically different drawn together as a family, the lone jigsaw pieces of other families patched together into a new picture.

Miss Medda returns home not long after, and the house is instantly louder, wilder, and homier. She's boisterous and energetic, but there's a comfortable affection to how she interacts with her children, the bone-breaking hugs and playful teasing. It's painfully apparent how much she adores each of her children, respecting and understanding their unique personalities. Even Race, although she certainly doesn't miss a single opportunity to guilt him and Spot about their wedding, no matter how many times Spot assures her they're going to have a proper ceremony after they both finish school.

The evening passes in a blur of conversation, companionable banter over dinner that's followed by a homemade cake layered in heaps of uneven frosting. Afterward, they migrate back into the living room, where the family's pooled a small mound of wrapped presents on the coffee table. "Guys, I toldja you don't gotta do that," Jack says exasperatedly.

"Shush and open your presents," says Miss Medda, shoving him toward the sofa with a smile.

Davey chuckles awkwardly. "I guess maybe I should've saved your present for today," he says.

Jack grabs his sleeve and tugs Davey down onto the cushion beside him. "Nah, he's safer at home," he says. "And ya wouldn't wanna be the crazy plant man on the bus, huh?" Grinning, Jack adds to the rest of the room, "He got me one'a those little bonsai trees with the fancy sand under that ya can draw pictures in. S'awesome." Davey flushes bright red - he hadn't been sure how the gift would be received, although it'd been an attempt on Davey's part to combine Jack's love of art with his newly discovered hobby of gardening. Half the reason Davey'd given it to him early was that he was embarrassed, uncertain if the thought behind it would come across, but Jack had seemed thrilled with the little tree. 

Holding out a little package wrapped in bright pink, Smalls bounces in front of Jack. He laughs as he accepts it, signing thanks before tearing into the paper with all the enthusiasm of a little kid. Inside is a crisp new set of colored pencils, as well as a little booklet that turns out to be a comic book about Jack's superhero alter-ego.

Crutchie's present is a case of paint brushes, and Medda gives him a box of paints with the promise that there will be an order of fresh canvases delivered to the apartment on Monday - sparing Jack the effort of hauling them home on the bus. Her gift also includes a book about art therapy for children that Jack flips through eagerly, eyes bright.

When Jack picks up the gift bag from Spot and Race, he immediately laughs. "Oh, know what this is," he says before he's even started removing the copious amounts of colorful tissue paper overflowing from the top. "Can hear it."

Crutchie's ear tips and then he snorts. "Seriously?" he says, glancing at Spot and Race. "You know Ma's gonna kill ya."

Spot shrugs. "Been threatening it for years," he points out.

"Because you keep giving me good reasons to," Medda answers, an eyebrow raised accusingly. "What'd you do now?" Grinning, Jack reaches into the bag and lifts out a bottle of whiskey. "Sean Patrick Conlon," Medda chides exasperatedly.

"What? He's legal," Spot counters. The rest of the boys are all trying desperately to restrain their laughter as Medda glares Spot into submission. "I'll keep an eye on it, make sure he drinks responsibly," he says. "And none for you," he adds as an afterthought, pointing at Davey. "You ain't legal."

"You boys are determined to give me a heart condition," Medda says, shaking her head, but the smile has never completely left her eyes the whole night. She glances over to meet Davey's eye. "You seem to have some sense in you. Will you make sure he behaves himself?"

"I try," Davey says, grinning. He casts a quick look at Jack and then adds, "But for what it's worth, I think you've done a pretty good job with him. With all of them, really."

Medda nods. "Hmm, I like this one," she says decisively, giving Jack a pointed look. "You better hold on to him."

Jack laughs, looping an arm around Davey's shoulders and pulling him closer. "Was plannin' on it."

"Good," Medda says with a nod. "Although I swear to God above, if you two decide to get married and I don't get to throw a proper wedding-" Jack and Davey both blush scarlet, stammering and flustered, as the rest of the room dissolves into raucous laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of angst in this one, but it's with good reason. Sharing is caring. 
> 
> Trigger warning: mention of off-screen suicide.

It's late by the time they all turn in for the night, and Jack hasn't stopped smiling in hours, even though his entire family enjoyed sharing every childhood story they could think of that would embarrass Jack. Davey doesn't know the last time he laughed as much as he has this weekend. As soon as they've changed into their pajamas, Jack wraps his arms around Davey's waist and drags him down onto the bed.

"You seemed like you was havin' a good time," the felisian murmurs in amusement, curling around Davey's back beneath the blankets.

"I always love finding out you've not always been as cool as you think you are now," Davey answers with a laugh. Jack squawks indignantly and nips Davey's shoulder. "I mean, I made some weird fashion choices in junior high but the _highlights_?"

"Was only like two weeks," Jack protests. "Just wanted to see how it looked."

"It looked ridiculous," says Davey, smirking.

Jack huffs. "Yeah, know that _now_." He nuzzles against the side of Davey's neck, draping his tail over his hips. "'Sides, least I ain't the one got my ears pierced."

Davey snorts even as he's blushing, and he touches an earlobe self-consciously. "Okay, fair point," he concedes. "Although in my defense, I was drunk at the time." It had been at a party in high school, celebrating championships with the other guys from the soccer team, and one of those ideas that seemed good until he sobered up the next morning. Four of them woke up with studs in their ears; the regret and humiliation were far worse than the hangovers. "I've never really thought about it, but can felisians even pierce their ears?" he asks curiously. "Your ears have all those muscles."

"Can't do all the way up, but we can pierce the bottom, got that bit of skin there. Be annoying as fuck though," the felisian says, and Davey sees out of the corner of his eye as Jack flutters his ear. "Boots done hers at one point but she took 'em out. Said you can always feel 'em, and every time ya move your ears they rub on the hairs and stuff. My ears itch just thinkin' 'bout it."

"Well, at least you're spared that poor life choice then," Davey jokes. Letting out a breath, Davey leans back into the warmth of Jack's chest. "Your family is kinda incredible."

Jack hums, and his hand flexes rhythmically where it's resting on Davey's stomach. "Yeah, they're a bit crazy, but they're a good bunch," he agrees fondly, and Davey can feel Jack's smile against his shoulder blade. "I got real lucky, endin' up here," the felisian continues, quieter. "Most the homes I went through, things weren't like this. It wasn't - they were places to live, but they weren't a home, ya know? And they definitely weren't family."

Intrigued, Davey rolls to face Jack, giving his boyfriend his full attention. Jack rarely talks about his childhood, especially of those years before he found a permanent home with Medda. Settling his casted arm between them, Davey's other hand combs his fingers through the thicker white fur on Jack's tail encouragingly, merely waiting to see if Jack's ready to share more.

There's a long moment of silence, Jack's gaze fixed on where Davey's stroking his tail. "I ever tell ya how I met Medda?" he asks after a minute. Davey shakes his head. "Got me arrested."

"What?" Davey asks, startled.

The felisian grins and he darts a glance up at Davey. "Okay, well, she didn't mean to," Jack amends. "I was eleven, had just run off from the newest foster place. Wasn't my first time, I'd run from a couple homes, but I kept getting caught and dragged back. This place - it was a bit shittier than most of 'em, and I _really_ didn't wanna go back. So I figured this time I'd be smart, find me a place to hide 'til the heat died down.

"Ma's first theatre's just off 2nd Ave in the Bowery - I'll take ya by to see it some time, it's pretty. Anyway, place looked empty, so I broke in, set up shop in this storage room upstairs. I had no idea the place was only so quiet 'cause Medda'd just barely bought it, wasn't quite up and runnin' yet. One day she's down in the office and hears me thunkin' around, calls the cops 'cause she thinks I'm a burglar. Then she comes upstairs with a fuckin' sword from the prop closet. Ya wanna talk scary, try havin' Medda bust in on ya carrying a big ol' sword."

Davey laughs appreciatively. "Aren't stage props like that usually made out of plastic or something?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

"Sure, but not like I knew that at the time," Jack agrees with a smirk. "'Fore either us could calm down, cops was there." He lets out a breath, ears drawing back. "Ma didn't press charges for me breakin' in, but they still nabbed me 'cause I'd sorta been stealing food and stuff, so I got chucked in juvie."

"That's what Crutchie meant?" Davey probes gently. "When he said you had a rap sheet?"

Jack chuffs. "Lucky me, juvie records are sealed," he says wryly. "I did some stupid shit when I was a kid, and I'm not gonna make excuses, just - I dunno, s'just what happens in places like that."

Dropping Jack's tail to take his hand instead, Davey smiles reassuringly. "So how'd you end up with Medda then?" he asks. "I mean, she catches a kid breaking into her theatre and decides to adopt him?"

"Basically," Jack says, laughing, and the tension in his features softens. "I guess she took it as some cosmic sign. She, uh, she can't have kids of her own, ya know? She even used'ta be married, I guess, and the asshole up and left her when he found out. And she told me she was all set to prove 'em wrong, that just 'cause she can't have kids don't mean she can't be a mom. She'd just started thinking about fostering, and couple weeks later, a lost li'l foster kitten shows up in her theatre."

"That's amazing," Davey says, awed. "I mean, what're the odds? Of all the places in all of New York, that's where you ended up that day."

Jack hums. "I don't really believe in things like fate and destiny or whatever, but no denyin' there was some sorta lucky star out for me," he agrees. "Don't wanna think where I'd ended up if it weren't for her. Pro'lly jail." He snorts. "I wasn't exactly the good upstandin' citizen I am now."

Davey kisses him softly, and he feels the anxiety bleeding out of Jack's muscles. The felisian leans his weight into Davey, tangling their legs together and draping his tail loosely along Davey's thigh. "I think you turned out pretty good," Davey says, smiling warmly. "Although I might be a little biased."

"Maybe a li'l," Jack says with a laugh, bumping his forehead against Davey's. "I'm so pretty ya can't think straight."

"Straight's never really been an option for me," Davey responds sarcastically. Jack laughs, the end of his tail thumping against Davey's knee. Grinning, Davey traces his fingers up Jack's arm, outlining the lay of muscle in his bicep and shoulder. "Seriously though, Jacky, you're kind of amazing. I mean, everything you've been through, and you still managed to turn into this person who is so genuine and compassionate. It's incredible. _You're_ incredible."

The felisian tips his head to meet Davey's eyes, and if they are a bit damp in the shadowy room, Davey isn't about to say anything. "Even though I'm a li'l broken?" Jack asks, and his tone is playful but there's an undercurrent of insecurity.

"Who _isn't_ a little broken?" says Davey, shrugging. "But I love you even though you make stupid cat jokes and don't sleep enough. And think pineapple belongs on pizza." Jack chuckles appreciatively. "Because you're also someone who wants to save others from going through what you did, and someone who leads the fight when the world isn't being fair." Davey smiles. "I mean, put it like that, you're practically a real-life superhero."

Jack laughs, rolling his eyes. "Sure, tragic origin story included," he says acerbically. "Nah, dunno that I'd make a good superhero."

"Your sister sure thinks so," Davey points out. Smalls had been very enthusiastic in showing him the draft of a full-length comic book featuring her character based on Jack, a charming and famous artist by day and vigilante ninja cleaning up the streets of New York by night.

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause she only knows me from after Ma got me straightened out," the felisian says self-deprecatingly. "She don't know the kinda person I was before."

Davey shrugs. "Like you said, every hero needs a backstory," he says. "And the fact that you could come from something like that and use it for good is quintessential superhero material. Everyone loves a redemption arc."

"Think you'd make a better hero than me," Jack says, casting a thoughtful glance up at Davey. "You're the one all heart-of-gold, change the world just 'cause it's the right thing to do. I'd be a vigilante, but you'd be a real hero."

"Batman's a vigilante, and everybody loves him," Davey argues.

Jack snorts. "Sure, but vigilante's got a bad habit of goin' dark side," he says, his tail twitching anxiously, and Davey can tell they're not talking hypothetical fiction anymore. "Say they's gonna do good and go too far and wind up turnin' into the same bad guys they was tryna stop."

Sighing, Davey eyes the tense lines of Jack's face in the darkened room. He doesn't understand how Jack can still doubt himself, that he can't see the incredible, caring person that he is regardless of where he came from. "One day I'll get you to see yourself the way I do," he says firmly. The felisian meets his gaze, brow furrowed and eyes surprised. "Okay, how 'bout this?" Davey offers. "If you're that worried about it, how 'bout someone to fight beside you, make sure your good intentions don't get the best of you?"

There's a pause and then a smirk slants across Jack's face. "You sayin' you wanna be my sidekick?"

"Partner," Davey corrects, although he's not doing a great job of fighting back a smile. "We'll save the world together." Knowing the comparison will make him happy, Davey adds, "Like Sherlock and Watson."

As predicted, Jack beams. "What'd I do to deserve you?" Jack murmurs and pulls Davey in for a kiss, his groan taking on a ragged edge. When they finally part for air, the felisian moves his attention to Davey's neck, alternating between soft kisses and small nibs. "Mm, if my ma wasn't in the room below us..." Jack trails off suggestively, his smile sharp and dangerous against Davey's throat.

"We'll be home tomorrow," Davey reminds him and even manages not to sound completely breathless. The rumbling picks up, vibrating through Davey from where they're pressed so close together. "But if you don't stop that, I can't be held responsible for my action," he adds.

Jack chuckles, sneaking one last lingering kiss to Davey's collarbone before he draws back. "Toldja I'm too sexy for you to resist," he says playfully. He nudges Davey, pushing him over onto his back so he can settle into his favorite place. Jack burrows his cheek into the hollow of Davey's shoulder, his arm draped lazily across Davey's stomach. "Hey Dave," he says a minute later, "how'd ya know 'bout Skittery?"

"Know about _what_?" Davey asks, bemused.

"Oh, never mind, was pro'lly Specs," the felisian says, shaking his head. He clears his throat. "Skittery. That kid from high school that was bein' picked on. Specs must've toldja, huh?"

Davey glances down at the top of his boyfriend's head. "Please tell me you're not saying that you called the special needs kid who was being bullied _Skittery._ "

"He picked it," Jack protests. "And he wasn't special ed, he just had Asperger's. Was smart as hell ach'lly, his brain was like a fuckin' encyclopedia."

"I didn't know you guys were friends," Davey says. "Specs said he wasn't very friendly."

"Oh, fuck no, he definitely wasn't," Jack agrees, smirking. "He was pretty much a total asshole. Wasn't his fault though, he didn't mean to be, just didn't _get_ people. Guess folks with Asperger's don't get things like sarcasm and facial expressions and stuff, so he'd get frustrated, and that made him mean. I dunno, we weren't really friends, but we talked sometimes after the whole thing was over and he stopped bein' pissed at me. He wasn't so bad if you were patient 'bout it, and we had stuff in common, like havin' shit dads."

"And you still fought to get him treated fairly, even though he didn't ask for it," Davey says warmly, rubbing soft circles into the base of Jack's ear.

"Like I said, wasn't really his fault he was a dick," the felisian responds with a shrug. He dips his head and sighs, nuzzling closer into Davey's side and tangling fingers in his teeshirt. "And didn't do no good in the end. Skits killed himself couple months after graduation."

Davey looks down in surprise, tensing. "Oh my God, Jack, I'm so sorry," he says. "That's awful."

"Was his dad," Jack says in a near whisper. "It might'a stopped at school for the most part, but that didn't do nothin' 'bout his dad giving him shit at home. Guess it just got too much. I just - it always makes me think if I could'a done more, ya know? Like, maybe if I'd tried harder at bein' his friend, he wouldn't have done it."

"Hey, don't do that to yourself," Davey says gently. It suddenly makes so much sense, Jack's ingrained hatred of bullying and his insistence that he has to stop it before anyone gets hurt. Davey slips his hand down from Jack's hair to cup his cheek. "It's awful what happened, but you can't blame yourself, Jacky. You already did more than it sounds like anyone else did. And if a person doesn't want help, there's not really anything you can do about it. Take it from someone who knows."

The felisian shifts his head to glance up at Davey, an eyebrow raised curiously. Davey smirks wryly. "I know I've got a small problem with accepting help," he says self-deprecatingly, and Jack mirrors his small smile. "So I know for a fact that when a person doesn't want help, trying to help them doesn't accomplish anything good."

"Yeah, guess so," Jack agrees distractedly, ears folded back. "Ain't fair though."

Davey chuffs a weak laugh. "Not to sound like an old person, but life rarely is."

The felisian snorts, nestling his cheek on Davey's ribs. "You always sound like an old person," he teases.

Davey flicks the tuft of white hairs at the tip of Jack's ear playfully. "Shut up, you don't have any room to call me old," he says, grinning. "I always kinda forget you're almost two years older than me." Jack's told him before that he's older than everyone else in his grade because he got held back at school the year he went into the foster care system.

"S'like a year and a half," Jack counters. He shrugs. "It's cool though, folks've always been into older guys. Makes me seem all mature and sexy."

"You got me," Davey deadpans. "I've got an old man kink."

Jack laughs, his tail flicking against Davey's leg beneath the blanket. "Better than your furry kink." Davey huffs in protest, attempting to shove Jack away, but the felisian tightens his grip, wrapping himself so securely around Davey there's no space left between them. "No, mine," Jack whines. He clings on until Davey gives up with a sigh, and Jack settles down with his cheek pressed into the curve of Davey's shoulder, smirking triumphantly.

Letting out a breath, Davey lays his arm next to Jack's across his stomach. "I'm sorry. If I'd known about your friend, I never would've brought it up."

"S'okay," Jack says, tracing vague patterns along Davey's elbow. "It's kinda nice, actually. I mean, I know I ain't the best at talkin' about serious stuff like that, but same time, I dunno - it's kinda nice knowin' I got someone to talk 'bout stuff _with_ , ya know?"

Something warm and bright swells in Davey's chest at the admission. He knows how much Jack struggles with opening up to people, and the fact that he finds some security in opening up to Davey is a significance he doesn't miss. "C'mere, you," he says, and taps under Jack's chin to urge him up. The felisian comes without complaint, scooting up to kiss Davey. It's slow and soft and affectionate, and Davey loves the way that simple gestures like this mean so much to Jack, who takes such comfort from little moments of contact.

"I love you, Jack," Davey murmurs when they part, foreheads still pressed together so he can feel Jack's breath across his jaw. He smiles, brushing his thumb along the felisian's freckled cheekbone. "And every time I think I can't love you more, you prove me wrong."

Jack's ears relax into their neutral position, and he ducks his head to kiss Davey again. "You too, babe," he breathes against Davey's mouth. He nudges his nose to Davey's before he slips down to nuzzle into that spot where he seems to fit so perfectly. Curling himself around Davey's side, he lets out a breath, and any lingering tension dissolves as he melts into Davey. "Youse best thing happened to me since Ma swung a sword at me," Jack says playfully.

Davey laughs, even as his eyes feel a bit itchy at the corners from the sentiment. "What is it with you and the people in your life being introduced in really weird ways?" he teases to lighten the mood. "At least I just yelled and didn't brandish any weapons."

"I dunno, you ever seen your face when youse pissed?" Jack replies. "You got a surprisingly scary death glare for a nerdy beanpole." Davey snorts, flicking Jack again. "What can I say? Don't matter how folks meet me, I always win 'em over anyway. I'm just that damn adorable."

Rolling his eyes, Davey tips his head to press a kiss to the top of Jack's head, the fur of the felisian's ears tickling his cheeks. "Keep telling yourself that," he says, but it comes out more fond than sarcastic. Jack grins, an impression of sharp teeth against Davey's skin through his thin tee. Davey yawns, shifting a little to make himself more comfortable. "Go to sleep, birthday boy. You're gonna want to spend the morning with your family before we head back home."

Something about that statement makes Jack chuckle quietly, but he doesn't elaborate. His eyes flutter shut, and he hums, just the faintest rumble from his chest before he stills. "Best birthday," he mumbles sleepily. Davey smiles, drinking in the familiar warmth of the felisian against his side and the tip of a tail tapping a languid non-rhythm on his knee, as he drifts off.


End file.
